I Always Knew I Was Different
by AfghaniVeteranHedgehog
Summary: What if Loki learned of his true self when he was younger? Would things have been different between him and his brother?
1. Chapter 1

I always knew I was different. I could tell right from the start. And not just going by a gut feeling, no, I could tell I was different on the outside as well. I wasn't as strongly-built as Thor or Father, and neither my hair or facial features matched Father or Mother's. And through this, I had the constant sensation, like an annoying buzz in the back of my mind, that somehow, I didn't truly belong.

I always knew I was different. I just never would have guessed the truth would be so horrid.

The day I found out shall be forever scarred in my memory, both as a beacon of hope and a scar of fear for the monster I am. Mother was seeing Father privately in his throne room, but, me being me, I found a way to peek inside and listen in. They stood in silence for a while, staring each other down, then Mother spoke in a quiet whisper, "He has to know."

"No." Father practically growled. "It would not be right."

"Odin, he cannot live his life as a lie." She persisted. "He knows to some degree already that he is different. He _must _know, or else it will tear him apart from the inside."

He shook his head, saying, "Frigga, it would be heartless of me to bring this news to him. His people are those that I've always shunned and told him that they were an enemy. I do not wish this mentality upon him, or any of my people."

"Then I'll tell him for you. Loki is my son as much as yours, and he…"

I did not hear a word passed between them after that. I backed away from my hiding spot, and ran. I did not stop to see what exactly it was that I tipped over and sent clattering to the floor, nor check to see if the throne room doors opened like I thought. I kept running until I reached my chambers, where I collapsed in a tear-filled heap on my bed. I was normally very good at controlling my emotions of fear, sadness, and anger, but they all slipped from my grasp and drained so much energy that I do not even remember falling asleep.

I am not sure how long it was I slept, and the dream I had has all but faded; the only thing I remember from it was that I woke up n cold sweat, breathing heavily.

A soft hand brushed my forehead, and an equally soft voice spoke. "Be calm, my son. It was only a dream."

"No, it wasn't." I choked out, tears threatening to spill again. "It's real. I'm different from you or Father or Thor."

Mother knelt by my bedside and cradled my face with her hands, wiping away the tear that fell with her thumb. "That may be, but you're still my son, and I love you."

"But what _am_ I, then?" I whispered. "Why did I have to be different?"

She remained silent for a moment, eyes filling with sorrow and dread, then spoke in an even softer whisper, "It's easier if I showed you. Come."

* * *

"Mother, why are we _here_…?"

She didn't reply as we began our decent down the stairs and down the hallway towards the Casket of Ancient Winters, a trophy Father had collected from a battle with the Jotuns a long time ago. Mother stopped in front of it, turning to me and saying, "Go up to the Casket, and touch it."

I slowly moved up towards it, the air slowly growing colder (though I barely noticed it). Reaching a shaking hand out, I touched it, but instantly recoiled my hand back from its freezing surface. I noticed then that my hand was completely blue, and a strange yet almost comforting numbness spread up my arm as I found myself touching the Casket again. The blue hue spread up my arm under my sleeve, and I could see my other hand begin to change color. The numbness traveled up my neck and around my face, and I could almost feel the marks on my skin slowly becoming more prominent, the blood-red eyes replacing my emerald ones.

I always knew I was different, but not like this. Not like this.

Mother and I shared a passing glance as the numbness faded and my skin changed back to its pale hue. I knew what I was now, and I knew why she had to tell me now. To not tell would be detrimental to myself had I lived most my life a lie, and bad things would surely follow.

She told me about how I was found when Father was retrieving the Casket, how he decided to take me in and raise me, and who my biological father was. She told me why I was never told this before, and how Father was still unsure about the results revelation.

I looked at my still-blue hands, allowing myself to speak. "…Mother, whatever you do, please make sure Thor doesn't know."

"Alright." Mother said in a low voice, placing a hand on my shoulder and guiding me away from the Casket. Her last words to me that night were, "Remember that I love you, Loki. Always remember."

I always knew I was different. Whether that's a good or bad thing, though, I've yet to see.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm not dead, guys! :D**

* * *

I spent the next few days in my chambers after finding out, avoiding Thor at all costs. I heard Mother tell him that I was ill and needed some time alone; thank Valhala he was stupid and believed it. Even afterwards, when I was 'better', life was never the same.

It was just Mother, Father and I who knew of my true origins. Thor was too boar-headed not to notice the small flinches whenever he talked to me about hunting down the Jotuns and slaying them, or how I stood a little farther away from the Casket whenever we went down to see it. It was never the same between anyone in my family. Sure, I appreciated the space I was given, but it slowly became annoying how Father always kept an arms distance away from me, and how Mother was determined to 'protect' me from even the smallest of things.

The years scraped on almost painfully, each decade slowly ticking the time until Thor would rule. Each day called for drastic measures in hiding from my brother, as he discovered all my old hiding spots the day I did.

I wasn't entirely sure how I had found the portal in the cliffs that teleported even faster than the Bifröst, but it certainly came in handy when it came to avoiding people. The first time going through I landed was in Jotunheim, and, though I don't like to think about it, something might have seen me scramble back to the craggy entrance to the portal. Afterwards I landed on (hopefully) inhabited planets, which provided me refuge for an hour or two until I deemed it safe to go home.

On a far better note, I spent far more time with Mother than I used to, and she taught me just about everything I know. She taught me how to fight, how to help a king rule wisely and fairly (as Thor would probably come to me for advice on certain things), and, most importantly, how to use magic. Its uses varied from simple things like levitating and summoning small objects, to more complicated things such as casting illusions and changing my appearance. As I got better and better, I started having to use the portal in the cliffs as a hiding spot less and less, as I could rely on magic to weasel my way out of Thor's hair.

Our final lesson together, when I was the Midgardian physical equivalent of fourteen, could hardly be considered that. All Mother did was smile, straighten my clothes a bit, and said, "Good luck, my son." I never knew I needed it before _that day_ happened. The day that was supposed to be Thor's coronation to be the King of Asgard.

A while before the actual coronation ceremony, my brother joined me in as I was staring blankly out of a window in mild discomfort. It wasn't the events of this day that made me itch, but the armor that Mother insisted I wear. The clothing was practically rubbing my skin raw, and the more-than-slightly-ridiculous-looking helmet sat heavily awkwardly on my head, but even the greatest men who have an ounce of respect in them listen to their mothers.

Thor came and stood next to me, Mjölnir in hand and helmet atop his head (far less ridiculous than mine, might I add), sharing in the awkward silence for a while. At length, he spoke, saying: "Today is the day I've been waiting for near my entire life."

"Is it? I haven't noticed." I responded, fake spite and real sarcasm in my voice.

He chuckled, clapping me on the back, almost knocking my helmet off. As I adjusted it back on my head, it seemed as though Thor wanted to say something. Now, that wasn't too big of a surprise, but he looked…nervous. Extremely nervous, as though what he was about to say would potentially offend me in some way or another.

Clearing his throat, he began forming a word when the doors opened. We turned to see Mother approaching us, a slightly stern expression on her face. "There you two are!" She led us both away by our elbows. "The ceremony's about to begin! And I find you two out here, staring out a window…" I couldn't help but smile a bit at Mother's concern for both of us. It was, after all, just about the biggest day in all of Asgard for centuries.

My brother took his place at the entrance to the hall and I took mine next to Mother's near Father's throne as the ceremony began. Thor held Mjölnir high above his head and shouted, causing the entire hall to erupt. If I didn't know any better, I would have said that he was rubbing the sheer might of his hammer in everyone's faces. When he finally made his way to Father's throne, after throwing a wink at Mother and I (earning an eye-roll from us both), Father truly began the coronation.

I hardly heard what he said. Half of me didn't care, just so long as it ended quickly and I could remove my damned helmet. The other half was focusing on the change in temperature. It was small, so most people in the hall probably couldn't feel it, but I did. The air grew colder with every word spoken, cold enough to where people were noticing the change. Then Father stopped, and we voiced our worries at the same time.

"Frost Giants…"


End file.
